Ask for the Sea
by secretstar
Summary: The burning returns, slow and crackling like amber. [RJ, RL, One-Shot, Complete]


**Notes**: Okay. So. Here we are again. I got hit with some rare inspiration this morning and all of this came out … and then I wrote it and I knew that some people would hate me after this. But I concluded that I'll be worth it because then I'll know that you read it, and you were drinking up my words, and there's something unnerving about that knowledge. Anywho. Here we are. This is completed, by the way.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own, you don't sue. GG/characters not mine. No copyright infringement intended. Lyrics are by Damien Rice (check him out if you get the chance) and the song is called "Volcano". The title of this story is … borrowed … from him too.

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**Ask for the Sea**

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(this is nothing new)

what I am to you is not real  
what I am to you, you do not need  
what I am to you is not what you mean to me  
you give me miles and miles of mountains  
And I'll _ask for the sea_

(you do not need me)

* * *

The burning returns and his words come screaming back to him. 

_I love you. Come away with me._

He remembers her eyes, pooled confusion glazed with sky, and how the aftertaste of the words had been bitter and regretful. Later that night, he'd driven back to New York, shattered dreams in hand. He'd then proceeded to drinking himself into oblivion.

At least that's what he's been telling himself.

He remembers the slow burning of the alcohol, sinking down his throat, as he tried to forget the look she'd had on her face. It was something like pity. He grabs his head, temples aching, and he suddenly feels a need to throw up.

The light spills in from the window, making ripples of shadows on the ground, and he thinks it's much too bright. He looks around the room and almost laughs.

The apartment is a mess, strewn with clothes, papers, take-out containers and bills.

He'd asked her to give up everything for this?

The idea of it seems laughable to him.

So he does.

He laughs.

But there's nothing funny about it.

The burning returns, slow and crackling like amber.

Time passes by—days, months, years—but he still wonders about the possibility of what might have been. After all this time, he still hasn't gotten over her. It's sad, actually, how he's never been able to get over this one girl who came into his life an eternity ago.

One day he sees her, and the burning that used to come to him returns, raging, and he's hit with a bite of nostalgia. Her hair is curly now, cut to her shoulders, and she wears more make-up than he remembers. He watches as she laughs, hand entwined with a man he doesn't know, blue eyes bright and open.

He can pick out that face from anywhere.

Jess watches as the blond man's arms snake itself around her waist, pulling her close. Her lips come up to meet the man's and Jess forces himself to look away. The weight that he didn't know he was carrying drops, and he scolds himself for being such an idiot.

What did he believe was going to happen?

That she would find him amidst the crowd and the world would stop spinning? That she would drop the blond man's hand and come running towards him, arms extending, lips ready to meet his? Even the very thought of it is laughable, but something inside of him holds on to the intangible hope.

Shaking his head, he goes home, needing alcohol all of a sudden.

When he comes home, he finds a new edition of the Times sitting at his doorstep. Jess picks it up, mildly interested, and walks into his apartment. He skims through the paper, stopping here and there to read a few articles, but doesn't find anything of much interest until he sees something he recognizes.

The photo is black and white, but the ring on her finger sparkles, blinding and unforgiving. The blond man stands beside her, arm around her waist, fingers entwined with hers, and he looks at her with adoring eyes.

The headline is bolded and he can't bring himself to look away.

_Heir to newspaper fortune, Logan Huntzberger, marries up-and-coming reporter. Lorelai Leigh Gilmore. _The spread then carries on to filling in the background info—met at Yale, worked on the newspaper together at the Yale Daily News, been together for 3 years, will marry in August.

The very idea that he once asked her to give up everything for him seems laughable, but he can't bring himself to laughing because it's suddenly not that funny.

It's becoming all too real.

His words come screaming back to him.

_I love you. Come away with me. _

He crumples up the paper and tosses it in the corner.

"_Rory? Something wrong? " Logan asks, eyes smiling as he stares down at her. _

_She averts her attention back to him and goes to snake her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Rory grins at him, teeth baring and happy. She pulls his neck down to hers, his lips fit hers perfect, and she is reminded of someone from long ago; of someone else who used to fit like a noose._

"_Nothing. Just thought I saw someone I used to know." _

_He grins and dips his head to kiss her again. _

_Happy, she meets him half-way, heart skipping._

The burning returns and he wishes for some alcohol to put out the fire.

**END **


End file.
